


Memories Of A Past Unremembered

by ChocoDrake



Series: Hell is repetitive and tedious, let's have some fun. [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Angst with no conclusion, Blood and Gore, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is Dead, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mama/Papa bear Pyro, Medic is not a N@#i, More tags to be added, No one knows what to make of it, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Past Violence, Recovered Memories, Repressed Memories, Spy needs a hug, Suicidal Thoughts, TF2 is the afterlife apparently, Tears, They remembered how they died, War, Wholesome Pyro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoDrake/pseuds/ChocoDrake
Summary: Day in and out they fought, it was the life of a mercenary. But they didn't remember signing up for this. Now that they thought of it a lot of things didn't add up. Like the respawn pads, the limitless supplies of pickups, and RED and BLU's endless battle for dominance. When memories blocked out by trauma come rushing back, no one knows what to make of their existence.
Series: Hell is repetitive and tedious, let's have some fun. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929265
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	1. You can't outrun your thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Boop. Hey, it's been a while since I've posted anything writing-related. I played TF2 for the first time a few weeks ago, I tried writing some other TF2 fics before but they weren't really nice to work on, so I went back to what I do the best, angst and silly fun.
> 
> This takes place primarily in the game in some sort of 'AU', so you don't have to have read the comics or what have you. The mercs are dead and the game is an afterlife of some kind.
> 
> Soldier's and Spy's chapters are done but they are messy and need to be fixed.
> 
> Trigger warnings will be placed at the start of each chapter. If you are wondering where the torture mention is, that's in Spy's chapter and is not too graphic but still dark to hear about.
> 
> TW: Blood, but you knew that already. :P
> 
> Please leave a comment on your way out if you can, even if it's to scream at me for breaking your hearts. Fare thee well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout thinks too much.

Scouts were never one for thinking deeply. The rush of bashing heads in and retreating out of bad situations blocked out any forms of thought other than your goals.

This is why Scout hated the in-between of death and respawn. Not only was he impatient, but the black void was also empty and silent, all of his senses were null and destitute, his body needed no mental power to function in this state.

This allowed for pure uninterrupted thoughts.

Trips to the void only lasted half a minute at most but that was enough to piece together memories that his mind blocked out, one death at a time.

Most of them were memories of mundane moments that held no interest to him or were happy moments with his Ma but then there was **that** memory.

The memory he wished he never remembered.

It was a cold December night. A gang of rivals had pissed him and his brothers off, you never messed with his mad dog pack. Never, unless you wanted a knuckle sandwich. He was first, always first, to the fight.

And the fight was brutal.

It was a blur, anytime he tried to remember it clearly was met with failure and a headache. He wasn't sure when the knives and guns came into play but all he knew was that he woke up in excruciating pain.

It was a pathetic sight really.

He was laying on the side of the street in a puddle of frigid water and blood, beaten to a bloody pulp and mewling like a dying kitten.

Where were his brothers?

Where was anyone?

Why was he abandoned?

Now that Scout thought about it he was always the one left behind. First to arrive last to come back home. Everyone, including himself, thought he could take care of himself, he can and he did but then he could not. His shattered knees attested to that.

Scout had died many times before but this was different. He was used to exploding into gibs while hearing his teammates yelling their jeers and annoyances that the other team killed their Scout. He never thought he needed to be around someone when he died. To at least have someone care even if it’s just an inconvenience to them.

But here he didn't have that. Here he was on the side of the road dying slowly. Shivering and sobbing for hours, hoping, praying for anyone to notice him.

No one ever did.

And that’s how it ended, with the cold and blood loss lulling him into unconsciousness.

Scout did not like to remember this memory. This was the type of memory that would make you hide away and cry for hours.

Part of himself wanted to talk to someone about this but his ego would not let him. He doubts the other mercs would even care anyway.

Battles with the other team kept him occupied from his thoughts however. But some days it still haunts him, messing with his skills in battle. The others always saw it as his off days.

But something always bugged him. This memory seemed like an important one despite the pain of it. Like a turning point, the height, the top, the apex, the end.

He doesn't know why he feels this way, but all he knows is that he wants to forget.

But he never will.


	2. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier is just a bit upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda short cause I don't really have anything more to add. Better to be short than to have unnecessary stuff I guess. Shrug.
> 
> As last time leave a comment if you can, and good day/night/whenever to you.

All throughout the map, a scream boomed. The entirety of both teams heard it, both knew who it was who made it and neither made an effort to investigate it.

It was just the mad rocket man screaming again, nothing to be concerned about really.

On the top floor was a hysterical Soldier on his knees screaming in terror. He had been screaming for several minutes, since the start of the mission in fact.

He was scum.

He was a maggot!

He was a sissy!

He was a coward!

He was a traitor!

He was

He was

He was

He was

**HE BETRAYED AMERICA!**

He remembers **everything.**

He remembers how he **abandoned** America due to his **cowardice.**

How afraid his cowardly past self was and how he wanted to run, how he became AWOL and selfishly left his post, how he abandoned his duties and ignored his orders.

Cowards had no place in this world and had no business living.

Justice was swift and furious. He had no pity for his past self, in fact, a shot to the head was way less a punishment then he deserved. They should have chopped the head off of that mewling coward begging for his life and mount his head above the fireplace as a warning to others that America does not take kindly to traitors.

And where was he after all of this?

This was not heaven.

This was not hell.

Not even the devil himself wanted a traitor such as him in his ranks.

This had to be purgatory or life itself had given him a second chance.

He would try his damndest to make it up to America, to prove he was worthy of her forgiveness.

And by god, he would prove himself.


	3. The Reason For Existence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro finds their reason for existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite chapters. In cannon, Pyro is seen as a monster but in the game, everyone is like chill around them. I'm taking the middle ground here, plus I see Pyro as the team mom anyway.
> 
> Anyway, I'm out of buffer so now I have to write Demoman's chapter now, be seeing you.
> 
> Leave a comment if you can, if not that's fine. Have a good day/night/whenever.

Pyro knew of their death from the start. Were they crazy? Insane? Sure. Was their mind muddled and confused? Absolutely not. Death had made their mind crystal clear. They still saw their land of cotton candy and sunshine sometimes but now they were well aware of their actions.

It wasn't always like that however.

In life Pyro was obvious, forever stuck in their world of sunshine, unaware of the violence and pain they caused.

Hundreds and maybe thousands died at their hands before they were caught and thrown in the insane asylum.

The same Asylum where they died.

Abuse, neglect and a gangrenous face did them in.

Pyro felt bad about their death like anyone would, but they couldn't blame them, who could love a monster?

They scuffed their foot against the ground, shoulders slumping as they made a sound of dejection.

What was the point of all this?

The war never ended, the battles just kept coming. What was the point of winning? No one ever truly won.

Maybe this was their punishment? To fight and die over and over again for all eternity?

They expected worse but maybe their maker took pity on them.

But Pyro still didn't see the point in all of this.

Their foot softly collided with something unexpected on the ground. They opened their eyes from behind their mask in surprise. It seems their Spy had decided to take a nap on the floor.

Interesting.

He wasn't dead, both the relaxed position he took and the fact he was injury-free suggested that he fully intended to sleep.

It seemed unusual for Spy to do such things. He must be having a bad time right now.

Wordlessly Pyro went to get a blanket and pillow, where they get these things from they did not know, they never questioned it. They gently wrapped the blanket around Spy and slipped the pillow under his head, he was so sleepy he didn't even twitch.

Pyro gently patted his head and stepped back.

“Uh...what the crap?”

Scout had just shown up and was gawking at Spy’s sleeping form. Pyro put a finger to his mask and violently shushed him.

_So help me if you wake him up._

Scout, more afraid of the threat of being destroyed then the curiosity of why Spy was crashed on the floor, bolted from the scene like a terrified rabbit.

Pyro shook their head, making sounds of disapproval.

What was the point of all this?

Pyro thought again, they looked back down at Spy sleeping soundly and found their answer.

Their team was the answer.

No, not the team, they were their family. Back then Pyro had no family but now they had one. They really cared about the mercs even if the team saw them as a monster.

Pyro wonders if they died too and if they even remembered what happened. Though if they ever did come around…

Spy shifted in his sleep tucking the blanket around himself more, they gave a small smile behind their mask.

Pyro would try their best to support them.


	4. The lies you've built

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One can lie about their past but what happens when one lies so much that they believe it? That they believe the lie to be their life? And what happens when they discover the lie again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this was late, I had it written for a while I don't know why I didn't post it. :/
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and the comment. <3
> 
> Btw, I'm bad at writing accents, but surprising well at writing mumbling.

Demoman’s sobriety streak only lasted 3 days.

It only took him 5 minutes to decide to touch the bottle again.

And only 10 to get horribly drunk.

He grabbed a bottle, he didn't care what type of alcohol it was, and chugged it down.

He wanted to forget.

The bottom of the bottle was always a great friend, it helped him deal with the things he could never talk about, the horrible things. It made him feel good, made him feel happy and warm.

But it never brought back his family.

Anger flashed in his mind as Demoman lowered the bottle from his lips. He glared at it in hatred, his grip tighter than a vice.

This bloody thing did nothing for him, did it?!

The sound of glass shattering broke through the silence.

Sharp shards cut deep into his hands, that mixed with alcohol burned like hell, blood coursed down into a disgusting mix on the floor.

“Hurmh?” A confused mumble sounded from the door.

Demoman looked up to see Pyro peeking from the doorway.

Pyro upon seeing him bleeding all over the floor rushed over to him all the while making muffled sounds of panic and concern. 

Demoman buried his face into his hands, not caring if the glass cut up his face, he gave a long drawn out moan.

“Pyrrrrrooooo.”

He felt something thrown at him, a medkit?, and the pain in his hands faded immediately, but he was still in mental anguish, no amount of healing could fix that.

“Pyro, lad…” He sobbed, not moving his hands from his face. “I’ve been- I- I’ve been lying to ye- lying to everyone. I’ve lied to meself- I’ve lied to meself for years...and I- ugh- believed it.”

  
  


“Mely?” Pyro mumbled, curious. He could feel them sit next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder in support.

Demoman hesitated, wondering if he should tell. Both the alcohol blurring his decision-making skills and Pyro’s willingness to listen convinced him to go on. He still gave another long moan before continuing however.

“I never was a Demoman,” He admitted.

Pyro made something that sounded like a gasp.

“I was the opposite, lad. I... a bomb defuser of all things, can ye believe it? Me, defusing bombs?”

Pyro was silent.

“I don’t know what went wrong, lad. One of them terrorists- they were pissed at me bomb-defusing skills- they went after me family. They- they put a bomb in me own home. Imagine my reaction learnin I have to disarm a bomb in me own home.”

“Mhhr.”

“I just don’t know what went wrong,” He sobbed,”The bomb went off- and I woke in the hospital, I lost me eye and my- and-” He broke down in trembles unable to speak anymore, he buried his face into Pyro’s chest, sobbing hard.

Pyro just wrapped their arms around him and let him cry it out, making soothing noises all the while.

“I wanted- I just wanted to forget. Why can’t I forget, Pyro? I want to forget. That’s why I drunk meself to death. I just want to forget. Please, Pyro.”

“Mrrths Oray.”

Demoman would cry and cry till he fell asleep, and people would find him much like they found Spy the other day, asleep with a pillow and blanket.

“Mrrth Mill Me Oray.”


End file.
